


The Notes

by jxtxadore



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxtxadore/pseuds/jxtxadore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly alternate AU. Based off the short film on youtube called 'The desk.' </p><p>James has no idea how the words had appeared on the note that he was writing.<br/>That didn't stop him from continuing, However.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Notes

**Hello _._**

_Hello_.

Naturally,the appearance of words, so easily changed,in such a script that James had never seen before, was enough to make him almost throw the paper away. 

_Almost. _

**What the hell?**

_I don't suppose you could be more specific, could you?_

James's brow knit at that. More specific about what? _  
_

_Let's start with your name. Mine is Quintin._

**James**.

_It's lovely to start talking with you, James._

**What is this?**

_I don't know. But, I intend to know where you are, so I can know the distance between us._

His hand started to the trash, with the note in it. That was too much, for him. He had intended to just write a note to a lovely lady he had met a while back, but he supposed that a new paper was in need. 

_Do you live in London?_

The words caught his eye before he could stop himself. 

 **Yes. Do you?** With the simple question, Quintin had invoked himself into the man's life. James hadn't a word for it, yet he knew that it was a simple thing. To just talk with someone, without sex, without an ulterior motive, was something he hadn't experienced for... Ages. He couldn't remember. Unfamiliar would be a word for it, perhaps, yet that didn't seem to do the trick, not perfectly. No, unfamiliarity was something that was for those who couldn't adjust. James could adjust. And, he wasn't very opposed to doing so, in this case. 

_Yes. I'm going to school here. Have you any ideas for good restaurants in the area?_

Thus their conversation commenced, with swapping of suggestions, and words being erased from the page when needed. James looked at the clock rarely, and would even do some work in between conversations with the mysterious Quintin.

The next day, however, proved to hold a dangerous mine for James. 

_James, where do you work? What do you do?_

His pen didn't touch the paper for a few minuets. 

 **I work for the government.** Nothing more, nothing less was written. If he did, he had a slight fear that he would spill too much. The boy he was talking to, for he wasn't much more than a boy, could be able to figure out what he did. Young as he was, he was intelligent. Top of his class, apparently, at a university he was afraid to name, he had a couple friends. Even with them, Quintin was more willing to stay in his flat that he shared with his arse of an older brother, who had been dubbed 'Sherlock,' And his even elder brother, 'Mycroft.' James assumed that they were fake names, for the absurdity of naming your children after fictional characters was one he would laugh at. 

And, with Quintin, Laughing was something he did often. He would often laugh about some of the miscellaneous things the boy would say, and it would rise his mind to think of what his laugh might be like. Would it be full, or high? would it be a small one, a chuckle? would it be throaty, or would it be a false sounding laugh? 

The questions only started to plague him after a few months of the conversations, and a few times he would almost throw away the paper. 

However, after a few times, Quintin was emboldened. Though James had told him that he didn't like sex, the youth had confirmed that he was of age, and... Well, James was interested in how far the boy's education went. Not far enough that James couldn't teach him something, he hoped. His mind tried through different ideas of the boy, seeing him from being blonde to black haired, buff to lankey, but all around, perfect. James didn't care what the other looked like, so long as he was Quintin. 

_James? Can you tell me something? Anything?_

**I like scotch?**

_Very funny, but..._

**What's wrong?**

A word didn't appear for a few minuets. 

_The people at the school found out that I'm queer. And quite honestly, I am terrified for my life right now. I just want to know that someone beautiful has talked with me._

**Can't I know where you are? What is happening? I don't want you hurt, Quintin.**

_No. Not... Not yet. If I were to tell you, this wouldn't be as special._

**If you don't tell me, then you won't have to worry about it being special.**

James held his breath slightly, waiting for the reply. 

_Don't worry. I'm home, now, and my door is locked._

Though a small sigh was let out, James knew that Quintin wouldn't be safe just like that. Doors were easily kicked down. Almost like the worries were found out, plucked from his mind, Quintin wrote another message. 

_Have you ever seen The Da Vinci Code? The one with Tom Hanks? I've put it in, and It's quite good._

And, though James was still worried, the thoughts unable to leave his mind, they fell into their natural, easy conversation. A bit of teasing through the movie, Which James " _had absolutely never seen",_ but knew by heart. James would quote it just off by moments, either before or after. It didn't stop him, however. In fact, it only spurred him more, with a grin on his lips. 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, based off the short film 'the desk.'  
> Similar in nature, and I just enjoy the idea. I meant for the the entirety of the writing to be aloof.


End file.
